


FabFebFive - Virgil

by JMount74



Series: FabFebFive2021 [4]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29861766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JMount74/pseuds/JMount74
Summary: A rare day off and Virgil's in the mood to paint
Series: FabFebFive2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139951
Kudos: 6





	1. Bananas

He was no slouch in the painting department, he knew that, but every now and then Virgil liked to paint simply. 

Today was one of those days.

In his studio on the plain table he used for his still life projects was a bunch of bananas.

It might have seemed innocuous to his brothers, but he’d never actually tried to capture this particular fruit before. Every time he’d bought bananas before they’d been either eaten before he’d had the chance or they’d been called out and by the time he was free to paint – usually a couple of days later - they had gone from glorious yellow to speckled brown messes.

But today – today he had three bananas, a perfect yellow with not much speckling, a canvas and some paints. Today was going to be an acrylic day, he had also decided. 

He checked his paints: Titanium White, Brilliant Yellow, Brilliant Red, Phthalo Green, Raw Umber Brown and Mars Black

…mmm, Mars Rocks…

He shook himself. Paint now, eat later.

He checked his equipment: one sable painters brush with a bevelled edge, one medium softish and two smaller but slightly stiffer flat bristle brushes, one very fine detail brush, on soft blending brush and a soft-leaded pencil. One prepped stretched canvas ready on his easel with his palette and water jar at the ready.

His stomach growled. Shouldn’t have thought about the Mars Rocks. Sighing, Virgil knew that if he didn’t get anything to eat now then he would find it hard to concentrate on later. But he really didn’t want to leave the studio just in case he got collared by one of his brothers and ended up doing something else.

His snack cupboard was bare – and how that happened he wasn’t too sure as he rarely ran out – and looking around he resigned himself. There really was only once source of food here.

He ate a banana.

Now. To begin.

Sketching the bananas roughly on the canvas was not the first step. Oh no. First he had to be satisfied with the positioning of the fruit, and for almost the next hour Virgil played with the bananas until the position was just right. One where there was some shading he could use for a touch of contrast.

Then he began to sketch. Keeping the line and proportion of the fruit, he lightly outlined the fruit, with a slightly darker line around the join of the two bananas. He kept adding small soft lines until he was satisfied with the outline, taking as long as he needed to be sure.

Using the medium brush, Virgil began by adding a squeeze of yellow to his palette with a dab of water and hint of white and mixed them thoroughly together. He used this as almost a light wash to just fill the shapes out.

Adding a minute touch of green to the palette, he softened it with the yellow already mixed until he achieved a yellow-green colour. Using the smaller brush he filled in just under the stem and down on the upper edges of the bananas. He mixed the lead into the yellow-green to wash out the outline, and he repeated the process with the back arch of the lead piece of fruit.

Next he took the umber, just a smidgen, and he mixed that into the yellow-green on his palette, not needing to add any further water. Taking his fine detail brush, he began to fill in the stem of the two bananas, ensuring he added a hint of white into a small part of the brown so as to show where the third banana had been broken off the stem, and a bit of the pure umber to just highlight the darker outline of the stem.

Virgil went back to the medium brown he had mixed and used it to highlight under both pieces of fruit where there was some shadowing. He thinned it out with water to create a wash first, and started with the shadow between the two bananas, softening the colour as he ran the outline to the tip of the fruit, and ensuring he completed a slightly darker line where they overlapped each other before creatine the shadow underneath them.

Taking the softer blending brush, he dipped it into the water and then into the mixed brown and used it to soften the edge of the shadowing, washing out the lead outline and just slightly onto the banana to soften the edges of the fruit and creating an under-shadow on the fruit. He then used a rag to just remove some of the outer edge of the shadow, added white to the brown and mixed to a very light brown and added it to further soften out the shadow.

He sat back and looked. Virgil gave himself a nod of satisfaction. Underpainting complete, now it was time for colour!

Picking up the slightly smaller and stiffer flat brush and the Mars black, he added it to the darker brown on the palette and used it to add depth to the shadowing on both the banana stem and under the banana, using a little bit of white to the edges as before. 

He continued with the shadow under the fore banana, shading from dark to light the further away from the fruit he moved, and slightly blurring the shadow edge with the banana edge to give the illusion that the fruit was raised from the surface.

Yellow next, with a hint of red and a dab of white until it looked like banana yellow. Using the middle flat brush, he highlighted firstly the underpart of the banana, making sure to leave the yellow-green clear but blending the two colours so that they looked seamless.

He added an extra dab of white and water to the yellow to add a lighter streak between the yellow and the yellow-green, blending carefully so that the bananas began to look rounded with just a hint of light touching them.

Taking up the smallest brush, he proceeded to add a hint of white to the tips of the bananas and slightly to the left centre of the palest yellow part, and carefully blended these in so that the white was just a tint of yellow.

Virgil sat back again and examined the painting so far. Yes, he was pleased with that.

Cleaning the fine brush of the white paint, he dipped it into the lighter brown mix and added more water to it. He began adding the imperfections and slight bruising on both bananas, with a little bit of speckling.

Lastly, he added a touch more white to the yellow-green on the palette, adding another layer to the palest part of the banana where the light hit them.

There was always the temptation to add more, to give something to contrast the fruit on the page, but Virgil resisted that call, heaving a sigh of complete satisfaction and putting his brush down after adding his signature to the corner.

He immediately began cleaning his brushes, he’d learnt years ago that dried acrylic was a pig to get out, and finished clearing up completely before he sat down once more to contemplate his painting.

He absentmindedly ate the two remaining bananas as he sat there, looking.


	2. A Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil just has to choose a question. Surely it can't be that difficult?

‘Come on, Virgil, it’s easy enough. You just have to think of a question.’

Yeah, in principle that was easy. _In principle._ But what do you ask someone when you know them really well?

Do you ask a question that you already know the answer to?  
\- What’s your favourite colour?  
\- What’s your favourite food?  
\- Who is your hero?

Do you ask one of those questions that the world asks and no-one knows the answer to?  
\- What is the meaning of life?  
\- Why are we here?  
\- What does the future hold?

Do you ask a personal question, one that might be considered a little prying?  
\- How much do you get paid?  
\- Where did you meet your wife?  
\- Did you ever throw up?

Do you ask them a funny question?  
\- What colour is your underwear?  
\- What is your favourite prank?  
\- What would be your super power?

Do you ask a question about home?  
\- Where do you live?  
\- Do you like wheat fields?  
\- Do you prefer the town or the city?

Do you ask a question about science?  
\- What will you eat?  
\- How fast will you travel?  
\- What does zero g feel like?

Do you ask a question about engineering?  
\- What material is used in the heat shield?  
\- Will there ever be a rocket that can be reused?  
\- Why are space shuttles painted white?

‘Well, Virgil? Have you decided?’  
‘Yes Ms, I have.’

Three weeks later:  
Interviewer: ‘And from Kansas Elementary School, the winning student’s question is: “Will you miss us?” from eight-year-old Virgil to astronaut Jeff Tracy.’  
Jeff looked straight at the camera and simply said, ‘every second that I’m away.’


	3. I Don't Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some things Virgil just doesn't understand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit angsty

He was always taught that if you didn’t know you must ask. Knowledge is acquired by asking and that would be how he would grow in understanding. He learnt lots of stuff at school by saying he didn’t understand. Most of the time.

He didn’t understand why kids bullied his brother.

He learnt to play the piano and to paint in various methods and mediums by asking both his Mom and teachers when he didn’t understand why _that_ combination worked but _that_ combination did not.

He didn’t understand why that made him a target for bullies.

He understood about life and death from working on the farm with Grandpa Grant, from helping with new born calves and foals and chicks to knowing where the Sunday roast came from. It was why he went vegetarian for a number of years.

He didn’t understand why that meant his Mom wasn’t coming back.

School taught him about the dangers of drugs, of misusing alcohol, of what the school counsellors called ‘dangerous living’ and about the side effects of such.

He didn’t understand how such addictions could start in the first place. He didn’t understand how someone could allow such a thing to take over them.

He understood why his dad went into space. His mom had carefully explained it when he had asked if his dad didn’t love them anymore because he wanted to leave.

He didn’t really understand it then. He didn’t understand when space was replaced by working at the business. He understood it even less now.

Scott caught him on the stairs, his light-sleeper of a brother catching him just before he opened the front door.

‘What are you doing, Virg? It’s like two in the morning!’ Virgil sighed. He’d hoped that he could avoid his brother if he left in the early hours. He should have known better, he supposed.

‘I’m leaving, Scott. And you can’t stop me.’ He put on his most stubborn expression and was surprised when Scott’s expression softened. His fourteen-year-old brother put his arms around Virgil’s shoulders and turned him towards the kitchen.

‘If you’re determined to leave, at least leave after a hot drink. It’s pretty cold out there.’ Virgil frowned. This was not what he was expecting at all, and he was sure there was a trick here, but maybe Scott didn’t understand what he meant. He let himself be led to the kitchen table and he sat down.

Scott put on milk and whisked in cocoa and sugar and vanilla essence. He didn’t say anything at all, leaving his eleven-year-old brother frowning. He poured two mugs and sat opposite Virgil.

Nothing was said at first, both content to drink, but after drinking almost half of his hot chocolate, Scott spoke. ‘What’s this all about Virgil?’

Virgil sighed. ‘I don’t understand anymore, Scott.’  
‘Oh? Don’t understand what?’  
‘I don’t understand why Mom has gone, I don’t understand why Dad has gone, I don’t understand why Grandma doesn’t come around anymore. I don’t understand why. I don’t understand, Scott, I don’t understand.’

By the time Virgil had finished he was crying, and that last statement was almost garbled. Scott got down and came round the table, pulling Virgil into a hug and hanging on until his brother’s breathing became easier.

‘I understand it’s hard, Virg, we all feel it, but understanding comes from asking the right questions. Sometimes the questions we think we want answers to are not the right ones, and understanding will only come when we ask the right question. Do you understand?’

Virgil nodded. He remembered his mom had said something similar.

‘No-one can answer why Mom has gone, because no-one can answer why accidents happen. They just do, and we have to make the best of life after the event. Dad, dad just hasn’t learnt to ask the right question either, so he turns to something he can understand, alcohol, and he uses that for understanding, but one day soon he’ll see that he’s asking the wrong question. And Grandma will be coming soon. Grandpa’s death was hard for her. He had Mom all our lives, right? Well, Grandma had Grandpa for most of hers, so it’s just that little bit more difficult for her. Do you understand, Virg?’

He nodded again. That made sense. He needed to ask the right questions.

‘Does Dad still love us?’  
‘Yes, he does, and he’ll remember that soon.’  
‘Does Grandma?’  
‘Of course she does.’  
‘Will they miss me if I leave?’  
‘Everyone will miss you. I will miss you most of all.’  
‘Why?’  
‘Because I love you, Virg, you’re my best friend. Do you understand?’

And Virgil nodded, because he did understand. His family loved him, even if some of them didn’t show it any more.


	4. The Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil, a rescue, a lake and some otters

Virgil liked lakes. They were often oases of calm amid whatever environment they were situated. He had a history of sitting by the lake back home – Kansas home, not Island home – and spending hours sketching the sunlight on the water or the wildlife around and in it. 

He missed that sometimes. Just the simple pleasure of being able to pick up his backpack with his sketchbook and pencils in and meander down to the lake. His mom always seemed to know he would do this even before he had decided, because he often found a sandwich, a drink and at least three cookies inside.

There were two lakes on Tracy Island. One deep in the jungle that could be reached only after a considerable hike – or what Scott called ‘a short run’ – and one in the caldera. The caldera main was just rock, but there was a section that had obviously been a smaller secondary chamber that now housed a small but deep lake. (‘Pond, Virgil, pond. It’s too small to be a lake,’ Gordon’s voice echoed.)

Virgil wasn’t sure what to make of this lake. It was a man-made lake held up by a dam that was in danger of breaking, and his brothers and he had been diligently sorting out the various engineering disasters that happened when one skimped on money in construction. Really, the dam needed to be pulled down and rebuilt, but the city that lay at the very end of the valley meant that that was not an option.

The dam was safe – for now – and Virgil’s engineering mind was whirling away for a solution while his artistic mind cast its eye over the waters. People were fishing on the water and from the opposite bank. He could hear different monkey calls in the air now that the drama of their ‘birds had quietened down. He’d been warned that there were sometimes crocodiles in the water, but he would really like to have seen and sketched the clawless otter. He was a sucker for otters, they reminded him of his fish brother.

Said brother suddenly appeared at his side, coffee in hand, and it took a serious amount of self-control for him not to jump. As he took the coffee One shot off home, and he watched for the 3 seconds it took for his brother’s ship to disappear. He turned to Gordon, question on his face, and Gordon grinned back at him. ‘Big bro’s gone off to collect Brains so that you two can ‘brainstorm’ together,’ he replied, laughing at his own joke. ‘He’s gonna bring some bits back with him for you as Scott says you’ll be here a while.’

Virgil stared at Gordon as if his brother had grown an extra head. Gordon even went as far as checking that he hadn’t, a movement not lost on his older brother, who retaliated by grabbing him and giving him the mother of all noogies, ignoring the muffled protests.

As it was, the next four days Virgil and Brains spent in conference with the owners of the dam, working out viable solutions to the problem for such long hours that he barely had time to eat before he was asleep. He hadn’t even looked at anything Scott had packed other than his clothes.

Day five was for winding up. They had come to a very good workable solution, one that Tracy Industries was more than willing to help with, and so Virgil spent the morning packing up. After ensuring everything was away and ready for transport, he spied a small backpack in the bottom of one of the containers. Curious, he pulled it out and opened it.

Inside was a sketch pad, a wad of pencils, a can of soda and a packet of chocolate chip cookies. A grin broke out over Virgil’s face, and he grabbed the bag, yelling at Brains that he’d be back in several hours. He made his way to one of the sheltered edges of the lake, hoping he’d see a sow with her pups as he knew they would otherwise be nocturnal.

It didn’t take long for him to spot a family. A sow with three pups, she standing guard while the three tumbled and played around her. He didn’t stay long, just long enough to get a couple of good, if rough, sketches.

Gathering his things up again, he looked back at the lake. He’d be back in several months’ time to see how the new dam was progressing, and by then the pups would probably have left their mother, but he’d look forward to seeing what other wildlife was present.


	5. Delicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is that smell? It's delicious, and Virgil just has to investigate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this an AU with Were!Virgil and Eagle!Scott.

It smelt good. So good it had triggered his salivatory response. Virgil swallowed. Whatever it was, it smelt delicious. And it was almost taunting him…where was that smell coming from?

He padded around the farmhouse and he couldn’t find it. But then, with everyone asleep he wasn’t expecting it to originate here. And he was loath to leave home in the middle of the night just to find the origin, that was only going to be a bad idea.

He whined. He was hungry, and the food he had already eaten was not enough, even though he knew it should be. Virgil huffed and lay back down. He was going to be good. He was determined.

That determination lasted about five minutes, and a slightly guilty Virgil made his way as quietly as possible downstairs and out through the kitchen door. The smell was much stronger here. He followed his nose through the garden, through the fields and beyond.

He’d left the safety of the farm without even realising it.

He was approaching another house, a ramshackle place he’d never noticed before, but then he supposed he didn’t come this way often. It was small, probably only a one-room joint, but there was smoke coming from the chimney and the smell was getting stronger.

As he approached, he saw there was a light spilling out of the open doorway. And in the doorway was a massive dog. Almost as black as he was, definitely as large, but the muzzle was shot through with grey, and he looked like he was asleep.

Virgil backed away carefully. He didn’t want to upset the dog and he certainly couldn’t afford a fight right now. The dog growled and opened an eye, keeping it trained on him, and the door opened wider showing a man that looked as grey and wizened as the dog. The dog lumbered to its feet, which was clearly and effort, and the old man petted him, eliciting a wag.

‘Come on out, whoever you are. We don’t bite, not anymore.’ Still Virgil hesitated, the warnings his mom had instilled in him sounding loud and clear, and he took a step back. The wolf – for now he was standing Virgil could see him more clearly – the wolf growled again, and he froze. The man chuckled and pet the wolf some more.

‘Don’t mind old Bartholomew, young’un. He just doesn’t want to share but he also don’t get much company these days.’ The wolf’s tail thumped the ground, and Virgil took a cautious step forward.

Only to pull up sharply as his brother swooped in between him and the pair on the veranda.

Mentally Virgil rolled his eyes, and in return Scott fixed him with a glare. Yeah, he’d kinda asked for that, leaving the farm without telling anyone, and he should have known Scott would have come looking for him. Big brother’s instincts were strong, and maybe just this side of reckless – it wasn’t like Scott could take on the wolf single-handedly, but that wouldn’t have stopped him – but all it did was garner a chuckle from the old man.

‘Looks like you have a guardian too, young’un. You’re both more than welcome, come on up and sit with Bartholomew. I guess the smell is too much for you both,’ he was saying as he turned back into the shack. 

Silently, Scott perched on the railing, eyeing the wolf but seemingly happy enough to stay there, and he watched as Virgil and Bartholomew introduce themselves. Vigil settled beside his brother, and the three waited patiently while the old man whistled tunelessly inside, obviously getting dishes ready from the sounds.

He came out with two bowls and set them in front of Bartholomew and Virgil, and watched with fondness as they ate ravenously, sharing a look with Scott.

It was the most delicious thing that Virgil had tasted in years. There was bacon, chicken…peanut butter?! Something else that was creamy. Cheese sauce? Yeah – cheese sauce! It didn’t last long.

They stayed for a while, Scott stayed perched on the rail and Virgil sat with Bartholomew , just listening to Bartholomew gently snoring and the old man rocking back and forth, smoking his pipe. As the first zodiacal light began to appear Virgil and Scott prepared to leave.

‘Thank you both for your company tonight. Bartholomew ain’t rightly had company for many years, and you were right kind to us tonight. I’ll leave the rest of Bart’s special stew for you, don’t think the old wolf will mind, eh, will you boy?’ The tail thumped.

They left them still on the veranda and made their way home to grab a couple of hours sleep before it was time to sort their younger brothers out for the day.

Scott and Virgil returned in the afternoon, dragging Alan and Gordon with them, watching the two youngest running all over the place. It was a fair old hike, and it came as no surprise when Alan started to complain that his feet were hurting, and could they stop for a rest? Scott let his jump on his back and carried him. Gordon looked speculatively at Virgil, but one glare and he held up his hands and ran away, grinning.

‘There it is, Alan. I told you it wasn’t too much further.’ The eight-year-old looked sceptically at his oldest brother. ‘You also said it would only take an hour to walk to,’ he said, frowning. Scott chuckled because his brother was right. He’d had no idea that they had travelled so far last night.

The shack was there, the front veranda with the rocking chair, and the door was open. Inside was a neatly-made bed, two chairs and a table with an old stove heater. On the stove was a simple cast iron pan with what looked like the remains of Bartholomew’s stew. Scott laughed at Virgil’s face; it was screwed up in disgust.

It may have been delicious to a ravenous growing wolf, but to a growing teen it looked and smelt awful!


End file.
